


I kinda hate you

by sauer (Showert_ime)



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Attempt at Humor, Doing stupid stuff because of alcohol, Drinking, Enemies to Lovers, Eventual Romance, M/M, Sickfic, Slow Burn, Social Anxiety, Social Awkwardness, work au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-06
Updated: 2019-07-25
Packaged: 2019-10-05 05:15:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 18,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17318711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Showert_ime/pseuds/sauer
Summary: Kyungsoo and Baekhyun didn't get along, and they never would. Probably.





	1. So, that happened

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this first part months ago, and I have like, 2k words written for the next part (either the last, or there'll be a third one). This is very self-indulgent, because sometimes, you just feel like writing characters who argue and misunderstand each other (only for them to become closer, I guess). I also felt like writing awkward, embarrassing Ksoo and touchy Baek. Not physically touchy k
> 
> Tell me if any warning's missing! For now the rating's PG-13 but it might go up!

As soon as Kyungsoo stepped into the bar, he knew he was in for a long night. 

He’d begrudgingly accepted Chanyeol’s invitation to go out for drinks after his colleague had given him the puppy eyes, toward the end of their 9-to-5 shift. Not that he was weak for them, oh no, of course not; it was just that he’d been particularly mean to Chanyeol during the team meeting, bluntly--and publicly--pointing out some mistakes he’d made on his last proposal. 

He was just doing his job, he’d tried to reason with himself, there was nothing false about his accusations, except that was exactly what they were: accusations. Junmyeon, their team leader, had chastised him about his lack of manners (!) and tact (!!!), had even suggested he apologize to Chanyeol formally or some shit like that, which honestly would've been like dunking a bucket of icy humiliation on his head. He didn't think he could live through that. 

But thanks to Chanyeol’s easy-going personality, none of that had happened. His hyung had simply fluttered his eyelashes at Kyungsoo to the point he’d gotten teary-eyed, hence the (actually accidental) beaten puppy look. And no matter how desperately Kyungsoo always tried to ignore it, it always got to him, sneakily breaking past his wall of indifference and wrapping around his heart. (Manipulation, pure manipulation, he’d grumble to himself every single time.)

As far as he could remember, he’d only been to the Kokobop Club once, and that was back in college, when he’d gotten so shitfaced he couldn't recall much of the entire experience beside elbowing someone in the face. 

Even now, mentally comparing the bar’s before and after? It was an impossible task. With his memories in the blur they were, there was no telling if the buzzing pastel lights, the fake palm trees and the poor ventilation had been the same or not, but he had a guess as for the latter. 

It took him one minute too many before he spotted Chanyeol at a table in the far corner of the building, beyond the moving mass of young people that was the dancefloor. His heart was then already squeezed tight and his armpits, most definitely ruined by sweat, even though he’d anticipated this--and made it worse all at once--by putting on a black, fake leather jacket. 

He had to zigzag through hot, careless limbs to get to the table, so when he finally made it past the worst of the brouhaha only to realize there were two more people than supposed at the table, he swore. (Under his breath, of course.)

Seated to Chanyeol’s left was Kim Jongin, the newest intern at the office. Awkward, dashing, inexperienced, Kyungsoo appreciated his politeness and the fact he didn't throw any jab at Kyungsoo about his bluntness like the others, but that was about it. Apparently, he and Chanyeol had shared some classes back in college, or something else along the lines. 

As for the other man present … well. Kyungsoo would rather he not be there at all, in all honesty, because he couldn’t stand him. 

Him being Byun Baekhyun, one of Chanyeol’s closest friends, but number one on Kyungsoo’s blacklist of the workplace for over a year now. 

Everyone teased them, would recount tales of how they became rivals from their very first day in the company … which was truly how things had evolved right from the start. They'd both started on the same day, on the same team, and in all of his entire life, Kyungsoo had never met someone he’d disagreed with as much as Baekhyun. He was brash, flirty, good at his job but somehow still lazy and sloppy in his methods, when Kyungsoo always followed a clean, straight line, never let himself become self-indulgent. 

He urged a nod at Chanyeol, sliding down in the sole empty seat left; beside Baekhyun, whom he carefully avoided looking at, even as he gave Jongin a small wave across the table. 

He heard the redhead scoff next to him--that was right, Baekhyun had dyed his hair fucking red, how much more tacky can you get--and purposefully leaned away and across the table to throw Chanyeol a meaningful death glare. “Why the fuck is he here?” he hissed through clenched teeth, molars grinding together almost painfully. He didn't really care if Baekhyun picked up on his annoyance or not, but he didn't want for Jongin to find himself in a pool of awkwardness he had nothing to do with, so there went his second good act of the day. The first one was coming here, of course.

All that was reflected back at him, though, was a half-apologetic smile and a twitchy shrug of shoulders. “I owe him some drinks because of a favour, and I wanted Jongin to get to know you two outside of work?” Chanyeol attempted, heedless to Kyungsoo’s actual discomfort in the face of such company. 

_Sure_ , Kyungsoo thought, _but you honestly could’ve picked another time to invite me._ He definitely knew of Kyungsoo and Baekhyun’s constant quarreling. Biting the inside of his cheek, Kyungsoo merely rolled his eyes and instead fixated on one of the neon-lit drink charts hanging on a pillar, near the main counter. If that was how things were going to be--because he couldn’t exactly barge out of the place, it would be rude, he knew that much--he was definitely going to take advantage of the alcohol. It’d been a while since his last real drinking session, but the future buzz of ethanol in his veins would be worth it, was already tempting him. 

“Kyungsoo, what are you going to take?” Jongin asked suddenly, yanking him out of his contemplation. He blinked, thinking that maybe it was Jongin’s way of trying to make small-talk. “I think I’m just going to start with a pornstar,” he said in a drawl, hesitant. 

In his seat, Baekhyun crossed his arms over his chest, twangy voice resonating far too loud in Kyungsoo’s ears as he mocked. “That’s weak. A girl’s drink.” 

Instantly, Kyungsoo clenched his fists into his laps, eyes throwing daggers at his execrable colleague. If Baekhyun couldn’t be decent for an evening, then he didn’t see the point in holding back. “I don’t think I asked for your crappy sexist opinion, so you can shut it.” 

Baekhyun’s eyes widened, mouth gaping open as he choked on saliva. “Can’t you take a joke?” Because this was his definition of a joke? “It’s fucking distasteful,” Kyungsoo bit out, and that earned him a eye roll. Across the table, both Jongin and Chanyeol looked appalled and, for lack of a better word, worried. 

They were not even five minutes in, and Kyungsoo’s fingers were already itching with the need to fling something at the redhead’s face. He knew all too well how satisfying it would be; after all, he’d thrown a stapler at the back of his head at work, once, when Baekhyun had purposefully been blasting obnoxious rap music from his computer’s speakers during break. 

Chanyeol shifted nervously, chair legs scraping against the flooring as he did. “Guys, guys, relax,” he began, one eyebrow ticking as he huffed. “It’s Friday, we’re here to drink whatever we want, however we want. Let’s just have a blast,” he finished, lips wobbling over his teeth as he smiled. 

Kyungsoo heaved, and Baekhyun just mumbled, fringe sliding into his eyes as he lowered his face as a reprimanded child would. _Good for him_ , Kyungsoo thought, _because he's got the maturity of a two-year-old._

 

The following hours weren’t as bad. 

Chanyeol bought the second round for everyone, and that meant Kyungsoo didn’t feel as terrible for spending money on more booze afterwards. He eventually swapped his sirupy, sour drinks for stronger stuff, while Chanyeol and Baekhyun stuck to beer for the most of it. As for Jongin, he didn’t really drink, only tasted from Chanyeol’s glasses, at least until tequila was brought up. Then, it was as if his whole world had turned around on its axis, and he had himself a couple of shots. 

Kyungsoo was, as of late, a wine drinker more than anything else, and a moderate one at that. His tolerance was fine unless he mixed, but he absolutely despised the aftermath that came with it when he went overboard. Not that he wanted to anticipate it today, though. He’d deal with it when it came his way tomorrow morning. Anything would be worth the fogging of his senses if it meant Baekhyun’s nasty sense of humour wouldn’t grate on his nerves as much. 

The duo of Chanyeol and Jongin definitely had something to do with the partial removal of tension from the atmosphere of their booth. While the youngest of the two was a bit of an embarrassment, all booming seal-like laugh and dad jokes, he was still a good kind of embarrassment. As for Chanyeol, always the hype man, he was charming, encouraging whoever talked to carry on with their anecdote, clapping hands and all. 

Baekhyun visibly unwinded throughout the evening, bantering along with Chanyeol and Jongin so long as Kyungsoo wasn’t involved in the segment of the conversation. Kyungsoo did similarly, but as he was never much of a talker to begin with, would often forget to finish his sentences, which would, as a result, cause his stories to fizzle out in the middle and lose the interest of his listeners. 

At some point, Chanyeol, Jongin and Baekhyun all agreed on joining the dancefloor. “To let out the beast,” had joked Chanyeol before Jongin had careened into him, wheezing with laughter. Kyungsoo had declined, all too aware of his poor coordination skills, and instead signalled for a waiter to come take his order. His wallet would cry come tomorrow, and so would his head, but he couldn’t really bring himself to worry for now. 

He was brought a glass of whiskey, which he nursed for a while. Each sip brought fire to hurry down his throat, fill the void in his chest, then left a cloying veil on his tongue that he would sweep over his teeth. 

There was a pounding in his skull, one that was accentuated in time with the thrumming bass of the music speakers. The distant impression that his stomach was churning would probably reveal to be true by the time sunrise came around, by the time the toxines left his blood and liver and left him utterly dehydrated, but for now, he revelled in the sensation of losing sense of who he was, had been, would be. 

Boring, stuck-up Do Kyungsoo, unable to thrive unless given a premade path. Nothing like Byun Baekhyun, whose improvisation skills always charmed the clients and earned him more impressive successes than Kyungsoo at work, even though he didn’t swear by the rules like him. Better than Kyungsoo who, for all of his deeply ingrained work ethics, couldn’t point out someone’s mistake without seeming unapologetically rude. 

He shook his head, eyes swirling along with the cubes of ice in his glass as he twirled it. Didn’t matter. Who he was, what he did, didn’t matter. At least, not tonight. 

Really, the evening could’ve gone a lot worse, was what he told himself. 

He didn’t notice, as the minutes went by, that the table became littered with empty glasses. He rebuffed every single stranger who dropped by the booth, completely disengaged at the idea of superficial chatting, the only thing he was likely to achieve in such a wired environment. 

He didn’t give himself the right to leave his seat, however, because everyone’s jackets--and thus wallets and whatnot--were on the chairs, and it just wouldn’t do if someone tried to steal one of the personal items. But after hours of just staring down his drinks, downing them, counting them, counting them in pairs, counting them in thirds, and even popping cats on his cellphone, he was as bored as he could get. Furthermore, his bladder was filled to the brim, and his belt, digging painfully into his lower stomach. It’d feel absolutely fantastic if he could just take off his jeans right then and there, but that would probably only make him look like a pure creep who’d had one drink too many, even if he ever tried to justify his actions with “jeans are the worst thing on Earth, my legs were suffocating, sorry,” or something else along the lines. 

The very moment he spotted Chanyeol’s tall frame, Jongin’s white skinny pants and Baekhyun’s bright, unmistakable red hair, he all but jumped from his seat. 

An utter miscalculation, really, because his surroundings began to sway before his eyes, inviting him in an impromptu tango back onto his chair. He clung to its metal bars, emitting a small “wow” as he did, because _wow_ indeed, this was hilarious and devastating all at once. 

Why was it that sitting made drinking so much trickier? It shouldn’t have taken away from him the ability to evaluate just how wasted he was, and yet. Oh, well, too late already, anyway. 

Someone poked him in the cheek--Chanyeol. “Are you okay, Kyungsoo?” He tilted his head up, eyes straying to flushed cheeks and disheveled hair from dancing. The tall man appeared relatively sober, or at least, definitely more so than Kyungsoo. “Sure am,” he slurred, snorting at his own inebriated pronunciation. Chanyeol grinned down at him, sitting down in his previous seat, and Jongin excused himself to go get a glass of water just as Baekhyun made for his seat. 

Except, yeah, Kyungsoo raised and stretched his arm at the very last moment just to prevent him from getting to it, because he could. The redhead stopped in his tracks, baffled by Kyungsoo’s not-so-civil (and not-so-mature) move. “Hum,” he began, eyebrows furrowed, mouth twisted. “Can I get my seat?” He, too, was rosy in the face, basically glowing under the glimmering rays of the lights of the bar. Almost cute, but too red all over, and Kyungsoo was never really fond of that bold, garish colour. 

He’d rather always preferred subdued blues and greys, maybe even purples--

“I don’t think you deserve it,” he replied, internally spazzing at the look of complete disbelief on Baekhyun’s face. “You’re just an ass,” he added, before finally removing his arm from the way. He was vaguely aware of Chanyeol giggling at the whole scene across the table and Jongin, too, who’d probably just come back from getting his glass of water. Such a responsible kid. 

Baekhyun could easily have pushed his limb out of the way, he mused, but he hadn’t moved before Kyungsoo had. “Thanks,” he even said as he passed him by, sliding down into his own chair without looking at Kyungsoo.

“I need to take a piss,” he announced after what might’ve been a mere minute of the table being silent. Chanyeol just nodded, already used to Kyungsoo’s useless comments when drunk or tired, but Jongin stared at him a bit funny before laughing. All the while, Baekhyun said nothing, or so Kyungsoo assumed as he hadn’t turned his way, nor did he hear anything coming from him. 

His legs were clumsy, his balance, precarious, so he had to rely on the table to gain back some sort of will to make it to the restroom. When he finally pushed himself entirely up, it didn’t feel as bad as earlier, so he believed himself fine and began making his way, solely guided by the WC sign. 

Behind him, he overheard someone say “I’ll go with him” but paid it no heed, speculating it was probably not about himself anyway. He poured all of his attention into the very task of walking to the restroom, no matter how far it seemed, no matter how suffocating the mob of the dancefloor. He could feel perspiration cling to the back of his nape like an illness, breathing down his neck and feeding into an ever growing nausea, but still he continued until his clammy hands came upon the door of the men’s restroom. 

The very instant he pushed it open, he was assailed with wafts of both urine and antiseptic products. Nose crinkling, he squinted as he padded to the nearest empty stall only to realize that, no, it wasn't actually empty. So he changed course, set for the urinals on the far wall, but then his vision spun, causing him to stumble and crash into the sink counter just as an arm wound around his waist. 

There was a warm exhale against his cheek, and then. “If you're going to bash your head open the first opportunity you get, maybe you shouldn't have drunk so much.” 

His head snapped back, eyes going wide as his numbed senses took in Baekhyun, right behind him--around him, holding him. What the actual fuck?

Apparently he blurted his surprise out loud, because Baekhyun grimaced. “Tone it down a bit, won't you,” he warned. Just then Kyungsoo applied pressure on his chest, just enough to push him away, out of his personal space. “Don't--Don’t touch me,” he stuttered, the fire gone from his tone of voice, but not from his skin, veins, and stomach. 

Baekhyun eyed him with something akin to wariness painted in the lines of his features, noticeably gnawing on his lip as he considered--maybe?--his next move. “Can you go even without… uh…” 

Kyungsoo’s eyebrow arched, twitching with impatience. “What?” Now was certainly not a time to be cryptic. His brain’s ability to understand was most definitely depleted. 

Baekhyun groaned, as if greatly pained by the words trying to claw up his throat, mouth, and into the air. “Do you need me to hold you while you piss?” 

Kyungsoo frowned, head tilted to one side, the gears cracking in his head as he tried to--comprehend. But then he did, and all that came up was a guffaw; a tired, sarcastic guffaw, filled with poison as much as Kyungsoo was empty. Baekhyun’s eyes locked onto his, and he held, he held the confused glare until it made him dizzy to do so, until he lost himself because all he found, beneath the surprise, was a wall of unknown he couldn't decipher. 

He would never understand Baekhyun. 

They were so--different. Unfitting to one another. Kyungsoo couldn't even begin to fathom his own friends, let alone himself--why would he suddenly be able to pick up on Baekhyun, who flirted with everyone, Baekhyun, who played along with these social cues that only ever befuddled Kyungsoo? 

He considered his state, assessed the slowness of his movements, the weights tied to his wrists and ankles. As if his head was pumped with fluids solely, it wouldn't send the signals to his nerves and muscles for him to so much as blink both eyes at the same time.

“I think, yeah,” he drawled out, hating every cell of his being for accepting, oh so aware that once the new day would be upon him, regret would catch fire in his guts like hay under the sun, and he, _he_ , sober Kyungsoo, would have to suffer humiliation. 

He didn’t wait, didn’t linger to see if Baekhyun would pursue him, his uncalculated movements and tremors, to the nearest urinal. 

He was thankful, though, for the arms that encased his waist as soon as he found himself lurching forward a tad too much. Faceplanting into a filthy urinal was not on his bucket list, never would be, not even if as hammered as he now was. 

But even standing right before the urinal, certainly close enough to get his dick out and just do his business, his hands fumbled, his fingers wouldn’t execute the right presses, the right pulls on the button and fly of his pants. Fucking hell, why wouldn’t it work? Why so complicated, suddenly? 

An exasperated huff echoed in his ear, reminding him of the body pressed to his own, and hands landed on his belt, undid his pants. “I swear, why am I even putting up with this,” Baekhyun grumbled. 

“Cause you’re an ass and if you don’t, I’ll pee on you,” Kyungsoo said without missing a beat and shrugged. Baekhyun gave a disbelieving laugh. Almost a normal laugh, at that. “Hurry up then, drunk one, I already took care of the hardest part for you.” 

Was that--was he really just casually messing around with him? Was Kyungsoo wrong in his interpretation of his tone of voice, or did Baekhyun really just sound normal, teasing, yes, but not in a sarcastic way? It was the alcohol, it couldn’t be otherwise. 

He managed to take care of the rest by himself, at least until his hands decided to lower while he held himself, and the back of his head gently rested onto Baekhyun’s shoulder. “Hey, you idiot, don’t fall asleep like that!”

He laughed, even as slender fingers touched his hands and helped him back into his pants. Oh, fuck. He really hoped he’d forget about it all by the time he truly woke up again. 

Baekhyun literally carried him--or, well, guided him with a lot of attention--back to the table. Everything was starting to mix; scenes, seconds, minutes, all blurred into one another; a sign of his drunkenness dragging him closer and closer to the edge of unconsciousness, even though he had yet to get back home somehow. 

“Why did it take so long? Are you guys alright?” Chanyeol’s voice boomed, even amongst all the other noises of the place, and Kyungsoo flinched, eyes tightly shut as he rested his weight on--well, on Baekhyun. Oops. He was supposed to hate on Baekhyun all evening--although… nah, he still hated him, even now.

 

“We’re fine, Kyung--I mean, he’s completely drunk,” Baekhyun clarified. “Can one of you guys take him home?” 

Silence. Well, as much as silence could exist in such a noisy, cramped bar to begin with. Chanyeol stared at Jongin, Jongin stared back, and Baekhyun, not believing his luck, glared at them both, vein pulsing in his neck at the accumulating tension. 

“I don’t even know where he lives,” he deadpanned. “I’m not going to make him sleep at my place,” a half-screech, half-laugh. How ridiculous could the situation really get? 

Chanyeol moved from one foot to the other while Jongin hovered behind the table, and, finally, said, “Maybe I could give you his address and you just… drop him off there? Or something?” There was so much sweat stuck to the linings of his clothes; Baekhyun couldn’t wait to just get back to his apartment, if only to wash the grime off and sleep. He hadn’t drank that much, but he was still tired after a week of work and hours of dancing.

“What if he goes into coma or something, uh,” he began. “Chanyeol, you’re his friend, why can’t you just take care of him?” He couldn’t help the whine that left him, a sheet of mental discomfort settling upon his shoulders at what taking care of Kyungsoo could entail. He just--couldn’t get along with the other. It’d be horribly awkward if Kyungsoo sobered up and remembered Baekhyun’s act of kindness; and what about his state? Baekhyun was no baby-sitter, wouldn’t just take that someone puke on him while on the taxi ride or some shit like that. All of that was just asking for trouble. 

“Well, hum,” Chanyeol threw a quick glance backward, towards Jongin, that didn’t escape Baekhyun. He sneered. “Oh, great.” Pushing forward, he managed to make Kyungsoo sit on his chair, even as his body was a deadweight, even as he teetered to one side and Baekhyun had to hold him, yet again. Before him, Chanyeol and Jongin were both sporting masks of guilt, their real intentions given away by the manner in which they now avoided to hold his glare. “You don’t want your precious fucking time to be interrupted, I see.” Both gasped, with Jongin babbling about excuses while Chanyeol’s face scrunched up as if he was about to cry. They were clearly still under the effects of alcohol, and so was Baekhyun, so why now? Why? 

Ever since Jongin had been taken in as an intern in their department, Baekhyun knew there was something fishy about the way he’d always stick to Chanyeol. It hadn’t taken him long to figure out that, indeed, the two were something more, but he didn’t think it’d come back and slap him in the face in such a way, ever. It wasn’t about him, for fuck’s sake. He’d already gotten a look at Kyungsoo’s dick, Kyungsoo peeing, and now, he was seemingly stuck with bringing him back home because his “friends” didn’t want to lose a second of their time to fuck? Fucking prodigious. 

“Alright, whatever, fuck off, you better pay for the taxi, or I’m dumping him on the street,” he threatened even though, truth be told, he’d never leave someone to die, no matter what Kyungsoo might think of him. Chanyeol instantly began to nod his head, all too relieved to shove money in his free hand, the one not holding Kyungsoo up. 

His wide-eyed colleague’s dislike of him hadn’t been such a difficult thing to figure out; his hatred, his discomfort in Baekhyun’s presence, it was all crystal clear, so palpable it was harrowing. He hadn’t done anything to Kyungsoo--they just didn’t fit, and somehow it pissed him off even more. And, okay, maybe his internal panic at being with him had spurted unsavory jokes out of his mouth on more than one occasion, but couldn’t he just, like, loosen up and let it go for a bit? 

At the very least, Jongin and Chanyeol didn’t leave him stranded right away. They actually offered to carry Kyungsoo outside, which he gladly accepted, and hailed a taxi from the main road nearby. The cash Chanyeol had basically forced in his hands back in the bar was more than enough to pay for the ride until Kyungsoo’s apartment, but Chanyeol insisted he kept it all, reiterating that it was a meager compensation in the face of everything else. 

He was a bit reluctant about it all, but once the car door was shut and Kyungsoo had basically slouched onto the backseat and half into his lap, there wasn’t much else to be done. He looked at his own face in his pocket mirror. His cheekbones were still flaming with crimson, far too much for it to be natural, yet his skin in itself was cold and moist, strands of black hair adhering to his forehead and temples. Urgency surged up from deep within himself, urgency to pluck the strands from the sweaty skin and dry them with something, but Baekhyun did nothing, couldn’t do much, had no towels within his reach. He surely looked half as plastered as Kyungsoo, anyway, and should instead focus on his own looks if anything. 

The drive was uneventful. Baekhyun was vaguely aware of his on and off drowsing throughout, and when the taxi finally pulled into a narrow driveway and put the car on park, Baekhyun knew they’d reached their destination. He thanked the driver, tipping him, too, for the smooth ride, and with great difficulty, dragged Kyungsoo out of his seat and into the cold air of the night after unbuckling his seatbelt. 

An annoyed sob almost made it past his lips when he realized he’d have to bring the other two flight of stairs, but he straightened up; it was only two flights, not seven, not fifteen. He could do this, so long as the zombie in his grasp cooperated a bit. He gave the other a shaking to, hopefully, lure him out of his daze just enough that he could set one foot in front of the other without Baekhyun having to do it all for him. “Kyungsoo, you there? We’re at your place, almost.” A grunt, a sigh, then silence again. “C’mon, I need your help if you’re going to make it to your bed.” He kept the whining out of his words as much as possible, but it was hard, so hard because Baekhyun was a professional whiner, just not in front of Kyungsoo at work. 

Kyungsoo huffed, as if disturbed from a nap, but his eyes flickered and eventually, opened the slightest bit. That was a small win, but Baekhyun was going to take it all greedily.

They marched onward and to the set of stairs, Baekhyun’s arm woven around Kyungsoo’s waist as Kyungsoo’s arm rested on his shoulders. Kyungsoo was heavy--maybe not heavier than Baekhyun, but still, when you had to carry such dead weight, it definitely felt hefty--and the climb, incredibly too lengthy in Baekhyun’s perspective. He was sweating profusely by the time they arrived to the door of apartment 202, and, leaving Kyungsoo to lean against the railing, Baekhyun tried to fish for the drunken man’s keys in his coat pockets. 

Nothing there; he momentarily sensed panic rise like scalding bile in his throat, until he realized Kyungsoo’s pants, albeit tight, had pockets too, and he set to find the keys, touches never lingering more than necessary. Eventually, he produced a set of keys from the left front pocket, and tried the keys one after the other until he found one corresponding to the door’s keyhole. 

The inside of the apartment was pretty nondescript, but one thing that did stand out was its homely vibe. He struggled for a bit, hands splayed out on the entrance wall to search for the light switch. Once the entrance hall was lit up, he stepped back and pulled Kyungsoo in, somehow relieved the other hadn't tipped over the railing or anything. 

The first room he came into was a mix of a kitchen and a living, all crème walls, brown furniture, and bamboo flooring. All-in-all quite boring, but well-maintained and open. (Also definitely cleaner than Baekhyun’s own living space, though he did notice garbage bags leaning against the wall by the entrance door as well as remnants of dishes in the sink.) If he could just get Kyungsoo to the couch, then he could figure the rest of the way through the apartment and, more specifically, identify the bathroom and the bedroom.

It was easier said than done, obviously. By then Kyungsoo’s breathing had became deep, and magic was the only explanation to the fact he hadn't fallen over. He was certainly no lighter than before, and carrying him to the couch made Baekhyun nauseous in a mere few steps. His chest was heaving up and down, and he hastily wiped his hands on his pants, moisture having gathered in their lines. All of this had drained him--so he slumped down on the couch once Kyungsoo was lying on it too, with an arm dangling over the edge and his shoes still on. 

He just wanted a couple of minutes to rest, to find back his breath, he assured himself. But he’d barely let his eyelids fall shut that a weird noise was reverberating through the apartment, the pitter-patter of something and--a meow. A meow? Was that a cat meowing? 

He attempted to remove the fatigue from of his eye sockets by blinking first, then by slapping his face a few times, until the pinch had heated his skin enough that he felt more alert. Before him, sitting prettily and with its tail swishing back and forth, was a cat, striped black and beige from the very tips of its furry ears down to its cute little paw. In the following seconds, it appraised him, lifted its butt, and promptly jumped on him to rub its scent all over his clothes. 

He’d never witnessed such a casual demeanour from a cat, so maybe it was somehow linked to his carrying Kyungsoo here? If its… master’s… uh, scent, was all over him, then maybe it’d made him seem more approachable somehow. Maybe. He didn’t know. He’d only ever had one cat, back in elementary school, and dogs had always loved him more anyway. 

Nevertheless, this cat seemed pretty straightforward in its attentions and needs, and Baekhyun found he quite revelled in the sensation of its purrs travelling through his frame. It was soothing, somewhat like a hand massager, but with the added emotional tingles, deep within his chest, of knowing the animal savored the caresses and human warmth. 

It eventually got bored, though, because it jumped down from his laps and disappeared behind the couch. Baekhyun felt a momentary sense of loss in the hollows of his chest, but then Kyungsoo shifted and groaned, and it caught his attention. Quickly, he yanked his cellphone out of his pocket. 2:18, it displayed, and considering they’d left the bar at around forty-five minutes ago, drove for fifteen minutes… it meant he’d been petting the cat for thirty minutes straight. What the fuck even? 

The lights he’d managed to turn on earlier were not vivid by any mean, but they did do enough of a good job that he could observe Kyungsoo’s evolving expression and position. His features were shiny with pearl of sweat, but the redness of his cheeks had gone down a little. As his eyebrows ticked inward, the man brought a hand up to rub at his eyes. 

Baekhyun wetted his lips, hesitated before he tried to speak. “You okay?” 

Kyungsoo’s head instantly wiped toward him, pure shock imprinted in the curves of his eyes and lips. “What--what are you doing here?” His voice, lower even than usual, dried out before the end of his sentence. 

Baekhyun breathed out, heavily. “Chanyeol and Jongin were in a hurry to suck each other’s dick, so I had to bring you back to your place.” There. It summed the situation up pretty well. 

But Kyungsoo jolted, sitting upright with taut, stiff limbs. “What?” Disbelief seeped into his tone, and Baekhyun felt bad for him. For some reason. He wasn’t quite sure himself why, to be honest. “What?” 

“Since when are they together?” Kyungsoo asked. “I mean--they never said anything!” Baekhyun scowled, but more at Kyungsoo’s slightly hysterical reaction than anything else. 

“Well, they never said anything to me, but I guessed it and… that’s what they confirmed?” That was about it, really. But considering Kyungsoo’s reaction, there must have been more to it.

Maybe… 

Oh. Maybe Kyungsoo had a crush on one of them. But it certainly didn’t look like it. But then Kyungsoo was bemoaning to himself, and his “how come I’m always the one who can’t figure it out” made Baekhyun stare at him with a raised eyebrow. Uh, okay. 

It didn’t last long, alas, for Kyungsoo’s face, which had grown paler and paler in the dim lights of his apartment, suddenly said, “I think I’m going to be sick.”


	2. And more stuff happened

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And things began to change, just a bit.

Kyungsoo vaguely saw Baekhyun, out of the corner of his eye, throwing his hands in the air and getting up a second after. 

“Seriously—I don’t know? Walk to your bathroom?” But Kyungsoo only curled up on himself, the back of a hand pressed against his mouth as a cramp racked up his body. 

Fuck, he felt so ill. So much for trying not to make a fool of himself.

Baekhyun dashed across the room to get to the cupboards, hastily going through each one of them; the clattering of wood, metal and porcelain told him as much. But he couldn’t bring himself to raise his chin, couldn’t even begin to unwind because the vertigo just wouldn’t pass, only further reinforcing the nausea. 

Honestly, it couldn’t get any more ridiculous than that. Maybe it’d be funny to think about in a couple years from now on, but uh, not right at that moment. Not one bit.

After what felt like a lifetime, a trash can was thrust into his grip. He was thankful, then, because his body gave up, and he hacked up the contents of his stomach into the bin.

He’d kinda drunk glass upon glass of cocktails and liquor, so that was really just him paying the price for loading his liver with harmful toxins. 

Baekhyun audibly winced next to him, but he couldn’t exactly twist his neck to look up now. Still, the cushion dipped beside him, and a hand (what he guessed was a hand? What else could it be, anyway?) made its way between his shoulder blades, drenched in sweat under his t-shirt and his black leather jacket. 

That left him drained, and way too sober to his liking; there was not much, if nothing left to numb the blaze of acid in his throat, nothing to lessen the quivers of his fingers, nothing to relieve the flushing. He felt—was—

Ridiculous. Stupid. Terrible. Maybe he wanted to die a little bit, too.

Oh well. 

“Sorry,” he croaked out. Beside him, Baekhyun jolted, and when he peered at him through heavy eyelashes, he seemed to focus a bit, looking uneasy if anything. 

“It’s fine, it happens. Hum.” And that was about it. 

Quiet fell upon them, slipping in through the cracks of the apartment and coating everything in awkwardness. Kyungsoo eventually willed his body into a standing position, joints creaking as if they had become parts of a statue. At that point, his sole goal was to get rid of the bag in the garbage can, remove his shoes and clothes, and whatever else he’d deem too uncomfortable, and fucking sleep.

He couldn’t even bring himself to care, no matter the efforts, about Baekhyun being here. Baekhyun who, moreover, followed him around even as he discarded the trash bag and removed his shoes. He was still light-headed, even more uncoordinated than normal, and so he knew he probably wasn’t one hundred percent sober yet. 

But, okay. Weird. Baekhyun was weird, and unless he was gauging it wrong, he gave the impression of being … worried. Cautious. But he couldn’t rely on his impression, could he?

And Kyungsoo couldn’t recall much before he’d come to on the couch, but certainly he hadn’t done worse than the puking part, had he? 

He’d have to apologize for his behaviour. Definitely. And he’d have to live with the fact that, of all people, Baekhyun was the one who’d been the main spectator of his shitshow. Fucking fuck. He’d panic over this and wail tomorrow, though, because right now he’d burned through all of his energy stocks. For a month. A year. Hell, he could just cloister himself away to avoid any further contact with humans until he expired. Yes. That sounded good, most definitely a well-thought, remarkable plan. It just made sense, in the current situation. 

He had just enough mind left to check Mimi’s bowls to make sure she had water, and as for the empty food one, that was to be expected seeing as he’d fed her in between work and going to get drinks. He then trudged to the bathroom, and Baekhyun was still on his back. Kyungsoo couldn’t shake off the stifling feeling his presence brought along.

But he didn’t dare break the monotony of the sounds that stuck to his every move, didn’t dare interrupt his half-assed routine as he rinsed his face with freezing water and brushed his teeth until his gums burned and bled. Baekhyun didn’t enter the bathroom, though, instead he just hovered on the doorstep, playing with his hands and only awkwardly taking a peek at him from time to time. 

Eventually, Kyungsoo pushed past him and reached his bedroom. The door of it hadn’t been closed, so Mimi, in a ball at the foot of the bed, untangled her furry limbs and jumped down to properly welcome him. He still felt terrible—death warmed over, or whatever—but seeing her push into his palms made the corners of his mouth curl up. 

Behind him, he picked up on Baekhyun’s nervous humming. “You can leave,” he said. The wording was final; Baekhyun didn’t need to linger, because Kyungsoo absolutely didn’t need him to—didn’t want him to, actually.

But what came next was a punch to his guts, one that almost made him lose his footing and his ability to inhale and exhale properly. “Are you sure you’ll be fine?” 

That was … concern? Baekhyun sounded concerned. His throat, constricting, forced a cough out of him. “Yeah, of course. You can—” He didn’t know what he was doing; he had gone crazy. Still inebriated. They’d both forget about that lapse in judgment tomorrow. “You can sleep on the couch if it’s … too late for you to go home.” A sudden change in his own plans.

Silence. Then, “I should be fine. But, well, alright. See you at work, I guess.” Awkward as fuck. 

Arguing was infinitely better than this. He didn’t know how to react, as opposed to their usual fights.

The sound of steps fading in the background was the last thing Kyungsoo listened to before he let himself fall onto his bed, and promptly fell asleep. 

 

Baekhyun didn’t even close the door to the bedroom; he doubted Kyungsoo ever did, what with living alone with a cat. (Or maybe he did because of said cat. Uh.) 

His limbs were so, so heavy. The evening had been stretching on for far too long to his taste, especially the part where he had to basically carry a drunk Kyungsoo up the stairs of his own apartment. Hell, he had even fucking patted Kyungsoo on the back—an attempt at comfort, mind you—while the other was, well, experiencing the effects of his binge drinking.

The ultimate worse was probably still having to help him take a piss. (At least, that’s what Baekhyun told himself. He needed to forget about that dick ASAP, too.)

In the living, his eyes stopped on the couch. Then, dragged to the door. Then, the couch again. 

A nap wouldn’t hurt, right? It’s not like Baekhyun lived that far to begin with, so even if he napped, he could get home pretty quickly afterwards … right? 

Because, right at that moment, the couch looked really, really comfy. Inviting. A necessity in his life, if you may.

“Just a real quick nap,” Baekhyun mumbled, and passed out on the couch.

 

The night was long, and awful, and Kyungsoo swore to himself he was never going to drink again. He was in such a daze, too, he had the impression a hand had touched his forehead and pulled the covers over him more than once. But it could only have been an ethanol-induced dream, a mirage, something he couldn’t quite comprehend with the state his body was in. Vivid dreams and all that, he knew well already.

All of his abstinence resolutions were most definitely a lie, too, because come morning, he would forcefully convince himself that no, it hadn’t been _that_ bad, he hadn’t been _that_ sick, he just needed to get his bearings back, control his alcohol intake better and woohoo, everything would be dandy! 

Except, who was he kidding? Control his alcohol intake better? He liked the comforting, warm buzz of alcohol way too much for that. And not everything would be dandy _because_ of said fact. But, okay, maybe he could limit himself to a few glasses of wine at most. Maybe. 

If Baekhyun wasn’t involved again, that’d definitely make it easier. His colleague’s presence made everything ten times worse, all the time. Kyungsoo had definitely drunk in excess because of him. (Look at him putting all of the blame on Baekhyun. Totally honest way of dealing with his own shortcomings and inability to handle his frustration, ha ha.)

When he exited his room, in only his boxers because he had expected to be _alone, fuck_ , he was greeted with the sight of a snoring Baekhyun, sleeping like a fucking log on the couch. His couch. 

A tinge of annoyance pierced through his horrible headache. Had the guy not said he was on his way out? Bullshit, it seemed. He’d hoped to go through the remnants of his hangover alone, depressing throughout the day while watching random, ridiculous conspiracy documentaries on Netflix. 

And he still could if he just … woke Baekhyun up. 

At that point, he didn’t hold too much hope in salvaging what was left of his dignity, but he would try, even if it meant … acting like nothing had happened, or just plain ignoring the other. Maybe he’d need something to blackmail him, make sure he kept his mouth shut about everything?

But they weren’t even friends to begin with, so how would this change anything? Kyungsoo shouldn’t care about Baekhyun too much.

His feet brought him to the kitchen, and even though he tried to convince himself he shouldn’t worry about making noise, he did. His trembling hands hesitated for too many beats of his heart before they finally opened the pantry to seize the cat food bag, and he cringed at the loud crumpling sounds it made. That automatically brought on the thrilled pitter-patter of soft paws on the ground, and he fought the urge to sigh as Mimi began to wail, all too aware that her first meal of the day was about to be fixed. 

Baekhyun just had to leave if he wanted a good night’s sleep, anyways.

He filled Mimi’s bowl with food, almost dropping some of it on her head because she was too eager and began munching on the very first balls that fell. Slightly dumb-looking of an act, but adorable nonetheless. 

A groan came from the living just then, and he straightened his back just in time to see Baekhyun sitting up on the couch. The redhead’s hair was a total mess, that much he could tell, but not wearing his lenses or his glasses anymore, he couldn’t see much else. 

He fortunately found one of his pairs of glasses lying on the counter, behind some spices containers and the toaster. He always scattered them throughout the apartment, thinking he lost them when in reality, he just really sucked at keeping his belongings where he could easily see them.

It seemed the glasses changed something, because him padding into the living room startled Baekhyun so hard he fell from the couch and onto the floor. Okay, that was funny. Kyungsoo snorted, and even with the hammering within the bones of his skull, brought his hands on his hips, silently mocking Baekhyun’s reaction. 

Baekhyun glowered at him, but his frustration quickly slipped off his face, replaced by a certain apprehension. Or culpability, maybe? 

(For what? He couldn’t tell.)

“Thought you said you’d leave.” It came off rougher than he intended for it to, and quite too boisterous to his own taste. He scratched the back of his head, embarrassed, but Baekhyun visibly averted his eyes, at least until he rose from the ground and dusted himself. “You also said I could take the couch,” he replied, tone even, but with his nose scrunching up. There was a pimple on his chin, one that definitely wasn’t there yesterday. And he looked tired, though probably not as much as Kyungsoo.

His answer rubbed him the wrong way, but instead of throwing mean words back at the other, Kyungsoo just took a big, deep breath in, nostrils flaring as he did, and returned to the kitchen. His parched tongue desired water, so he poured himself a glass of icy cold water from the fridge. 

In the periphery of his vision, he took notice of Baekhyun’s envious staring and rolled his eyes. “Want a glass?” He tried to sound nonchalant even as Baekhyun, of all people, crossed the room to stand by the sink just a metre away from him. In his own apartment. Gosh. Was that an alternate reality? Had he died in his sleep?

“Yeah,” he said, and Kyungsoo resisted the urge to sigh. “Yeah, what?” He prompted back, even as his hands reached for a plastic cup, and he filled it with water from the pitcher. 

But nothing. When he peered over his shoulder, Baekhyun was looking at him like he’d asked him to pay for the water. “What? You didn’t say please.” 

Baekhyun gaped at him, mouth so wide open Kyungsoo feared his lower jaw would come off. “Are we in elementary school,” he all but wheezed, incredulity dripping from his words. With a lifted eyebrow, Kyungsoo casually leaned back against the counter, both glasses of water in his hold. 

“It’s basic manners?” The moment he vocalized that, his ears began to tingle, to burn. Oh, gosh. What was he doing? 

In front of him, Baekhyun snickered, arms crossed over his chest as he evidently loosened up. “You’re not really one to talk.” And right then, Kyungsoo knew what was coming. (Actually, his subconscious had known what was coming the moment he had mentioned, “basic manners.”) “You basically humiliated Chanyeol during the last meeting, and everyone thinks you hate, well, everyone.”

But still, wow. The _nerve_ of him.

Kyungsoo didn’t hesitate, though maybe he should have. He’d probably come to regret it later, but at that very precise moment, he just brought both glasses up, and splashed Baekhyun with the icy water they contained. 

The outraged shriek that followed was pure music to his ears, and he’d have chuckled if not for words that repeated in his mind like a broken record. _You humiliated Chanyeol. Everyone thinks you hate them._ His own voice brought him back to reality. “You just had to say please, and thanks.” 

While he didn’t exactly want to appear offended, he was. He sidestepped Baekhyun, took Mimi into his arms—she’d finished her food, anyway—and walked down the hall to his bedroom, deaf to Baekhyun’s indignation as he slammed the door behind him. 

His heart was hammering in his chest, like he had just braved the worst of demons, except it wasn’t that at all. All of that was just so, so stupid. But Baekhyun had pinpointed exactly one of his fears, had mocked his disposition, his way of being. Had exposed one of his biggest flaws, one Kyungsoo still didn’t know how to get rid of, because he was just like that.

The bedroom door cracked open on its hinges, and Baekhyun appeared, hair, shoulders and upper chest completely soaked. He was fuming, and the raising and deflating of his chest brought Kyungsoo’s attention to the damp fabric outlining his collarbones and nipples. 

Ah, he shouldn’t look. Anger (and hurt?) was still churning in his stomach, anyways, so staring at the outlines of obviously pretty collarbones wouldn’t help his case. 

His ears finally tuned in to the sounds around him. 

“You owe me a shirt!” Loud. Rancorous. “There’s no way I’m gonna go out and freeze my ass! What if I get pneumonia? Then I’d prosecute you!” Ramble, ramble, ramble. Seemed like he really had struck a chord with Baekhyun, uh. He couldn’t remember seeing him that riled up. It comforted him somewhat, to witness his colleague acting like the biggest drama queen ever.

He lifted his hands in the air in a peaceful gesture, releasing Mimi by doing so. The cat didn’t bother to stay around the screaming guy; she just skittered away, hiding in the wardrobe. It made Kyungsoo worry a bit, but she would be fine. 

“Are you ignoring me? You’re fucking ignoring me, I can’t believe—” 

“I’m not,” he clipped back. A curse had definitely been cast on him. Didn’t matter that his mind couldn’t recall it; there were no other ways to explain his terrible luck. And his impulsivity. Oh, but—hadn’t he read an article about impulsivity, the other day? One mentioning that a parasite found in cat feces could make humans act more impulsive—ew. Must forget. “I’ll go get you a shirt.” 

Maybe Kyungsoo had made the curse worse than it already was by throwing not one, but _two_ glasses of water at Baekhyun. 

He also knew it was interrupting Baekhyun’s tirade, but at that point, there wasn’t much else to say or do. He’d angered him, alright; but Baekhyun had downright mocked him, and it had instantly made his blood boil in his veins. He still felt somewhat shaken because of it all. How else should he have reacted? 

(Probably not by doing what he had done, a little voice told him. To that voice, he said, “shut up.”)

 

So. 

More things happened, and that was how Kyungsoo found himself at the nearest Tim Hortons. More precisely, in said Tim Hortons’s bathroom, with Baekhyun knocking on his stall. “C’mon, you’ve got to eat something!” 

Kyungsoo burped and then shook his head, even though Baekhyun couldn’t actually see him. “Nuh-uh. If I eat, I’m going to be sick again—” 

“And you’ll keep on feeling shitty if you don’t!” Gosh. Baekhyun sure knew how to be annoying. 

How they ended up here exactly, Kyungsoo didn’t remember. Kind of. 

Baekhyun had complained about being hungry (after Kyungsoo had lent him a new shirt), and Kyungsoo had actually offered him food. Except there was not much food in his fridge or cupboards, so … yeah. Something like that had happened. 

It made absolutely no sense for Kyungsoo not to be working, and yet still be in Baekhyun’s presence. And when he thought about it, Chanyeol was probably the biggest asshole for actually leaving him alone with _Baekhyun_ , of all people. What had even happened for Baekhyun to have brought him home instead of his actual friend?

A dizzying thought, really—one that almost made him even more nauseous than he was already. With a frustrated huff, he turned around and unlocked the door stall. 

Baekhyun, right on the other side, almost careened into him, surprised by the sudden movement. “Fuck, say something next time,” he breathed out, a hand on his chest. Kyungsoo shrugged. Drama queen, really. “Now, are you gonna eat something?” 

Kyungsoo shrugged again, and just pushed Baekhyun toward the door. His outraged yelp was something like a distraction, at least. 

Baekhyun ended up ordering for the both of them, because Kyungsoo just—didn’t know what to get. Couldn’t choose, really. Not with all the lights and smells assaulting his overly sensitive senses. The joys of being hungover, ah, yes! 

For the first time in his life he was maybe, just _maybe_ , a tiny bit grateful that Baekhyun ended up taking the lead for him. 

 

Life was weird, but it wouldn’t, couldn’t get weirder than bringing Kyungsoo, of all people, to Tim Hortons after a night of dancing and binge drinking. (Baekhyun did the dancing, and Kyungsoo, the binge drinking.) 

Baekhyun couldn’t say he actually liked the guy, because he was still too serious, too blunt, and not at all the kind of person he would usually hang out with. Slightly introverted and a sucker for rules and “manners,” yet unable to recognize his own impoliteness. 

Furthermore, they were still work rivals of sorts. But he had seen other sides to his colleague during the evening, now that he took the time to go back on the events. 

And, yes, Kyungsoo was an asshole for actually throwing water at him, and acting like Baekhyun was the worst being to have walked on Earth. Because Baekhyun could admit that he had been too harsh and had said stupid things to infuriate Kyungsoo, but he wasn’t a criminal either, okay? 

And yet, it didn’t feel as bad as it should have. If anything, Chanyeol and Jongin pushing a drunk Kyungsoo on him had pissed him off a lot more than Kyungsoo’s tantrum. 

About that, he’d definitely have to make Chanyeol regret it. Baekhyun had gone through all of that trouble just so he could fuck Jongin; Chanyeol owed him one big time.

Kyungsoo had actually hid behind him as they had walked up to the fast-food employee to order their food, saying he couldn’t choose so Baekhyun should do it. He had found it a bit weird, but had done it anyways. Kyungsoo had been so pale in the face, Baekhyun had been kind of worried he would faint right there and then. (He hadn’t, thank God.)

Then, he had walked Kyungsoo to his apartment, had given him half the food (a wrap, some hash brown potatoes, a doughnut, and a coffee) and had left him be with a hesitant _Uh, see you at work._ It had truly been one of the most absurd, awkward moments in all of Baekhyun’s life, though it could never beat the “I’m-holding-your-dick-so-you-can-pee” part. But Kyungsoo had answered _Yeah, see you … and thanks_ , with his eyes downcast and his small hands around the cup of cheap coffee, and, well.

That had made Baekhyun feel surprisingly warm. How weird.

Monday, like all other Mondays in the history of Mondays, came too early that week.

Baekhyun prided himself on being an efficient employee, always ready to try for new deals and handle new cases, but there was one thing he always struggled with: making it on time to work. Really, his only real flaw if he could say so himself. (Okay, that and his sometimes timing-inappropriate jokes, but, details).

So, always true to himself, Baekhyun came in fifteen minutes late on Monday. His excuse this time was that the weekend had been a weird one; from going out for drinks to ending up having to handle a drunk Kyungsoo, and then having to babysit his brother’s cat (which hated his dog, of course), he didn’t really have a break.

He was admittedly a bit out of it by the time he finally sat down in his office chair. And barely a minute in, Chanyeol came by his cubicle. “Hey Baek’!”

And Baekhyun turned the other way, like he didn’t hear.

This big doofus didn’t even deserve to be addressing him like that.

“Aw, c’mon, was it that bad?”

Baekhyun scoffed, but held back. Oh, there were so many things he wanted to tell Chanyeol, like remind him about how he’d actually left his extremely drunk friend with Baekhyun, his work rival and definitely not a friend, just to get a good fuck out of the new intern.

Okay, yes, Baekhyun was definitely redundant in his grudge. But that was still how it all went down, and he was kind of displeased with Chanyeol giving him the puppy eyes just last time they saw each other, only to act all normal on Monday.

What did Kyungsoo even think of that?

Had he even realized at all that Chanyeol had left him to be with Baekhyun, with how drunk he was?

And then, something happened that Baekhyun never would have dared imagine.

Kyungsoo walked up to his cubicle and, instead of greeting Chanyeol like he usually would (and ignoring Baekhyun), he just punched the giant in the shoulder.

By his yelp, it hurt.

But then, something even more amazing took place: Kyungsoo, instead of hurrying back to his own work cubicle, put the coffee cup he was holding on the desk.

Right in front of Baekhyun.

And then he left.

That left both Chanyeol and Baekhyun gaping, alternating looking between the corridor and each other, because—what?

Just what was that?

 

The coffee Kyungsoo had brought him wasn’t especially amazing, but Baekhyun recognized its cup logo as the one from the café down the street.

This meant Kyungsoo had stopped on his way to work just to buy Baekhyun a coffee. Or something. 

And that didn’t even begin to answer the why. Had he ordered a coffee, and then decided he didn’t want it? So he gave it to Baekhyun because he was still annoyed with Chanyeol anyway and he just wanted to get rid of it?

But Baekhyun couldn’t let himself be too distracted. He had already way too much work to handle.

 

“What do you think’s gotten into him?”

Chanyeol shrugged, stuffing bites of his lunch into his mouth. He made too much noise when doing so, as always, and Baekhyun cringed. Munching noises, ew. “I feel like he’s trying to apologize?”

Baekhyun snorted, accidentally almost breathing in his noodles. He coughed, and Chanyeol patted his shoulder in mock empathy. “What would he apologize—I mean. It’s just. Kyungsoo? Apologizing to me?” He couldn’t help the amount of disbelief that bled into his voice.

Chanyeol laughed. “Well, he kinda feels bad easily? And with all the trouble he probably gave you—”

Baekhyun raised a finger, cutting his reply short. “Nuh-uh,” he began. “YOU gave me trouble because YOU decided to leave a bad drunk, who also happens to be my work enemy, to me.”

Chanyeol smiled, but because of how red his huge ears became in a matter of seconds, Baekhyun knew he was embarrassed. “I mean—you can’t say he didn’t give you trouble.” A bad excuse if Baekhyun ever heard one.

He averted his gaze to the food in front of him. Pad Thai from down the street. Pretty good, really. “I mean, he was a mess.” And Baekhyun still didn’t know how he felt about him.

Chanyeol arched an eyebrow. “And?”

“There’s no ‘and,’” he mumbled. It wasn’t a weird drunken night and a black coffee that would suddenly make things different between them. Right?

Chanyeol hummed. “Well, I still think he’s trying to apologize. Like I said, he feels bad easily. He’s an irresponsible drunk, but he’s not a bad human.”

“Even to someone he hates?” Baekhyun scoffed, but Chanyeol just shook his head. “He brought you a coffee,” he stated, like it was supposed to explain everything. When Baekhyun just raised his hands in the air and stared with wide eyes, Chanyeol sighed. “It’s a peace offering.”

Baekhyun frowned. That couldn’t just be it. 

And, following Chanyeol’s words, Baekhyun thought he shouldn’t pursue that extremely sudden and vague feeling, the one telling him there was more to Kyungsoo than just someone he didn’t get along with. After all, things had always been the same before that fateful Friday. But that was the thing: since then, they just hadn’t been the same, at least in Baekhyun’s opinion.

He had gathered _so much_ blackmail material on Kyungsoo. He had witnessed his inability to drink, his shameless drunk self. He had had to help him take a leak, to bring him back to his place lest his co-worker would never have made it home in the first place. He had had to babysit him through the worst of his alcohol poisoning and, the following morning, his hangover.

Hell, he even had gathered blackmail material on Chanyeol and Jongin, who was only an intern and a new one at that. He could do so much with all of that information. He could use it all to fuel his dislike of Kyungsoo, could even use it to discredit him at work, and casually mock him in front of other co-workers—

But Baekhyun quickly came to the conclusion that he couldn’t do that, ever. (He was never as mean as he liked to think he could be.)

Instead, he found himself becoming more curious about Kyungsoo. A renowned efficient but tactless employee, Kyungsoo and he had always been at odds because of their respective work methods. Baekhyun, and he could at least admit that about himself, was loud, and a smooth talker; Kyungsoo, in his opinion, was too stiff and too blunt, but had at the very least always seemed to have clear goals in mind.

He was introverted, and Baekhyun, extroverted. Or one could say he was an ambivert who handled his social life well enough; it was just that everyone needed time alone at home, and that certainly didn’t exclude Baekhyun because, as much as he liked hanging out with others, they could tire him out.

Still. He and Kyungsoo were so different from one another. There was always so much tension between the two of them, either because of their work ethics or overall contrasting personalities that Baekhyun would have laughed had someone told him, before Friday, that he would become curious about Kyungsoo—his work rival, his alter ego, almost. Dramatic much, for a Kyungsoo description, but it was still what came to his mind at that moment.

Because, and he had to face it, recognize it for all of its worth: after everything that had happened, Baekhyun found that he was becoming curious about Kyungsoo. He wanted to know more about him; to at least find explanations to some of his reactions—such as his frustration at not knowing Chanyeol and Jongin had a thing going on.

And all of that—it meant Baekhyun was fucked. Thoroughly so.

 

But, of course, life was never that easy. Now that Baekhyun suddenly had another perspective on the Kyungsoo matter, it would have been too simple for him to be able to walk up to him and ask that they make a truce, or even just thank him for the coffee. 

Baekhyun didn’t think anything weird would happen, at first, simply because Kyungsoo was a blunt and proud man. Usually, no matter the mistakes he made at work, he owned up to them, and then simply acted normal, which translated to glaring at Baekhyun in the corridors or above the cafeteria table if it so happened Chanyeol had asked them to eat lunch together that day.

Yet it became somehow difficult to so much as catch a glimpse of Kyungsoo. And, contrary to before, he would never even join Chanyeol for lunch, so no matter how many times Baekhyun suddenly asked to join their giant co-worker, after two weeks, he still hadn’t exchanged one single word with Kyungsoo. 

Two weeks. Two full weeks of Kyungsoo hiding behind his cubicle walls, ducking whenever Baekhyun waved at or so much as glanced at him. Two full weeks of Baekhyun trying, for once, to see and acknowledge another side of Kyungsoo only for it to prove absolutely impossible. 

With a huff, Baekhyun dropped his messenger on his desk. Noticing he’d just squashed important folders right under it, he sighed heavily. It still felt as though there was a weight on his shoulders even though he’d just gotten rid of his bag. At the back of his mind, something pushed to get out in full sight, pushed to be remembered—but Baekhyun shook his head and fought back until it went back in its box.

His ears picked up on footsteps, which became clearer by the second until they stopped right in front of his cubicle. “What’s wrong with you, showing up at work at 7 in the morning?” It was Chanyeol, his face bleak and a coffee in hand. 

“The same could be said for you,” he mumbled and promptly yawned, so long and hard tears sprang to his eyes. Chanyeol groaned and sat down in Baekhyun’s chair, effectively forcing him to lean onto his desk. 

Chanyeol often looked some kind of tired even when he was on an energy drink high, but at that moment, he truly seemed to be dead on his feet. “Got some extra work to do, I guess.” 

“How so?” 

Chanyeol opened his mouth, then closed it. Baekhyun had to shake his head to forget about the gaping fish in the nature documentary he’d watched the previous night. Chanyeol really looked alike to them, sometimes. 

“It’s just… Jongin is sick, but Victoria gave him a whole lot of stuff to do, and he’s been so stressed about it, so I thought—” He came to a halt when Baekhyun slapped a hand on his mouth. Then, he frowned, probably because Baekhyun had sweaty hands, and sweaty hands were never a fun thing to have plastered on your lips. (Not that Baekhyun cared for Chanyeol’s disgust. If anything, it amused him.) 

“I don’t need the whole story, just say you’re backing Jongin up.” Rolling his eyes, he removed his hand as to let him speak again. It was gross and cute all at once, that devotion Chanyeol had taken to show more and more often toward Jongin. It didn’t change the fact that Baekhyun was still bitter about the Kyungsoo thing, but, it made him softer toward the new intern. Not his fault if his boyfriend (?) was also extremely selfish, and Jongin probably didn’t understand all of the important dynamics existing within the (kind of) group of friends. 

Chanyeol’s ears became a deep shade of red, and Baekhyun reached out to poke one only for Chanyeol to bat his hand away with vehemence. “Stop it,” he breathed out. “Just don’t tell the others the ‘extra work’ I’m doing is Jongin’s, okay?” 

Baekhyun shrugged. “Sure.” It wasn’t like it would do anyone good if he did, anyways. Surely Chanyeol and Jongin could handle themselves and whatever their relationship brought on. 

It was then quiet for a bit. Baekhyun felt his eyelids droop. Aside from their breaths and the buzzing of the neon lights above them, there wasn’t much else he could hear—he smacked himself in the face twice, just to keep awake. “Fuck,” he muttered. His cheeks stung, and Chanyeol was staring at him funny. 

It was going to be a long day. 

“So, why are you here that early, anyway?” 

Baekhyun corrected himself mentally, because in fact, it was going to be a never-ending day, especially if all of his efforts went to waste. 

“So, you know, Kyungsoo,” he drawled out, realizing he didn’t know how to voice his ideas. Chanyeol just wrinkled his nose. “Uh, yes, I actually know him.” Baekhyun punched him in the shoulder, but not too strongly because he didn’t enjoy being subjected to Chanyeol’s teary eyes. “Just shut up, okay? I just—So. I wanted to, I don’t know, thank him for the coffee or something, but he’s been—“ 

“Avoiding you,” Chanyeol finished, only to smack his own hands against his mouth. Baekhyun felt his eyebrow tick a few times. “So I take it you know about this, uh.” 

Chanyeol avoided his gaze, an action that spoke loudly enough for itself. Baekhyun sneered. “So he told you about it.” 

Which means it wasn’t, like, unintentional. Or something Kyungsoo had done without thinking too hard about it. If he’d told Chanyeol, then he had really just done everything in his power so that Baekhyun wouldn’t be able to get a word in. 

All things considered, it kind of stung a bit. That made Baekhyun scowl. Why did he even care? But his hands became sweatier, and his chest started feeling tight, too tight—his physical reaction surprised him, until he told himself it probably had to do with Baekhyun taking care of Kyungsoo only for the latter to avoid him afterwards. 

That was probably it. Anger, annoyance directed toward Kyungsoo, because he had deemed a cheap black coffee enough instead of properly thanking him and apologizing for all the trouble he’d caused him. Yes. That was probably it, probably—

But after the initial sting, an even heavier weight settled onto his shoulders. Anger wasn’t really it, in the end. 

Instead, Baekhyun was disappointed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is, and not at the same time because in the end I need more words to finish this story OTL But it shouldn't go above more than three parts, I think. (For REAL OKAY)
> 
> I really wanted to update it; and so I hope you guys can enjoy! I feel like it's a bit redundant, but I wanted to explore Baekhyun's POV a bit more. (Also, yes, yes they live in some place that has Tim Hortons.) 
> 
> I expect the last part to have a similar or lesser word count... but we'll see! With university and work it's hard to tell when I'll be able to post. I thought I wouldn't be able to post for at least a month, and here I am, updating after uh, three weeks I think! (And, yes, I've been writing during classes, lol.) 
> 
> I want to explore their relationship, their "coming-to-be-together" more, really. 
> 
> Again, every kudos, every comment--it all means so so much to me. Thank you for reading, and thank you for giving me a chance as I try to become a better writer!


	3. It didn't end too terribly, did it?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Denial and self-doubts aren't enough to prevent things from being how they should be.

“Have you seen Baekhyun?”

Kyungsoo stopped what he was doing—scrolling through a horrible PowerPoint presentation from one of their newest clients—and threw Chanyeol a confused look. The time on his computer read 15:21. “I suppose he’s at the afternoon meeting.” Which Kyungsoo was not a part of, because he had just been transferred on to another project. He didn’t really mind as it meant he didn’t have to interact with Baekhyun forcefully. 

Chanyeol shook his head. “It ended an hour ago, actually.” The look in his eyes was something quite like expectation, and Kyungsoo could only shrug. Why would he know where Baekhyun, of all people, was? “I really don’t know, Chanyeol. I haven’t seen him all afternoon.” 

The giant pursed his lips, let out a huge sigh. “Okay, thanks anyway.” 

Kyungsoo hummed.

 

The time read 15:55. Only an hour and 5 minutes to go. Kyungsoo could do this. Or could he?

His armpits were soaked, and so were his hands. Working on a new deal often did that to him. He could not help but become shaky, could not help but in- and exhale noisily just because new tasks always seemed more daunting than the routine. And in this case, with the shitty, unclear PowerPoint, things were not off to the best of starts. But, in the end, it would be fine, as always. Probably.

He didn’t mind any of it if it meant having to deal with fewer people at once. Especially if it meant he could ignore a certain person’s existence—

For a millisecond, his chest felt tight. He pulled at his tie, pulled at his collar until he gave himself the impression the pressure on his airways lessened. (It didn’t.)

He had done nothing wrong, that much he was sure of, yet still his eyebrows were still pulled in a frown.

Avoiding Baekhyun was just following with the natural course of things between them, something that would be more beneficial, in the long term, than entertaining some sort of relationship with the redhead. It just made perfect sense, after all that had happened. 

That was why it unsettled him that something similar to guilt had made its nest within his chest cavity. He told himself it was just worry, fear that Baekhyun would out him, and retaliate in some kind of way—

But he also, weirdly enough, knew that his colleague wouldn’t do anything. Or hoped so, at the very least. 

And Chanyeol coming to ask if he had seen Baekhyun, when he was very well aware of the fact Kyungsoo had done everything in his power, in the last two weeks, to avoid him—that was annoying, because now he couldn’t stop— _this_. Thinking about Baekhyun, or something. Fucking hell.

It was starting to be a problem.

Time perception being the fickle thing it was, it felt like hours before the end of his shift came, but it did, eventually. Kyungsoo couldn’t be more relieved; he desperately needed a hot shower, and to remove his pants.

Stupid work pants. They were okay, not too tight or rough, but they would never equal wearing only his underwear or his fluffy pyjama pants with doughnut prints: the ultimate best for his sensitive skin. Who wouldn’t change into their pajamas if they could, anyways? 

He gathered his things—his favourite gel pen, his vacuum bottle, his USB key—and made his way out of the building, only stopping by one of the lunch break rooms to take his lunch bag. 

Chanyeol stood in front of the entrance, cellphone to his ear. “Are you sure you’re fine? That was sudden.” The giant gave Kyungsoo a wave, who nodded, and carried on with the conversation. “The last time you fell sick was like, three years ago.” Some mumbling on the phone. “What? I’m not kidding! Your immune system’s no joke!”

Kyungsoo, for one reason and another, had stopped walking. He tilted his head at Chanyeol’s words. Someone was sick, alright, but he shouldn’t be listening in just to know who that was. That kind of curiosity was useless, and baseless. 

So he told himself if he knew who was sick, he would be able to avoid that person more efficiently if they decided to come in to work the next day. He couldn’t risk falling sick when he had that new project going on.

“I could bring you some soup, or something.” A pause. “I’m not joking, Baek’, half the time there’s nothing edible in your fridge anyway—”

Ah. 

Should Kyungsoo be surprised it was about Baekhyun? Because life really seemed intent on making him take notice of the dude’s existence. It was beginning to be annoying. He didn’t even need to interact with Baekhyun for him to irk him, really. 

He waved at Chanyeol again, putting his own phone back in his coat pocket. Yes, he had taken it out to look busy, to look like he needed to check something before walking to the bus stop. There was no need for Chanyeol to know that. 

And there was no need for Kyungsoo to stay, so he went. 

 

He went, but… 

But he couldn’t really enjoy his evening. 

Stopped by the Esso for some cheap wine, just because. Made his way home right after, and got rid of his work pants as soon as he crossed the threshold of his apartment. Then got to cooking, made stew with what was left in his fridge—cabbage, mushrooms, and a few other things on the verge of turning bad—and sat down in front of the TV, a glass of wine on the low coffee table and a bowl of stew in hand, with Mimi purring against his thigh. 

Nothing unusual, really, but—he was annoyed. He just was. Like there was an itch he couldn’t scratch, and that was just enough to make him unable to relax, unable to find the show’s host funny, unable to loosen up even with Mimi’s purrs.

Kyungsoo really sucked, didn’t he? 

He couldn’t just be nice and act fine around others. Couldn’t just _relax_ enough for it. He always went and made things awkward and worse than they could’ve been. 

And then tried to convince himself what he did was justified. As if. 

He sighed, lungs deflating until he was starved for air and had to take in another breath. Then his cellphone buzzed, and, with a lazy reach of his hand, Kyungsoo took it. A phone call, not a text. And on a Tuesday night, really? 

“What do you want, Chanyeol?”

\---

As soon as his meeting ended, Baekhyun left. His boss gave him a dirty look when he told him he didn’t feel too well, but he ignored it. It wasn’t a lie. Plus, he had been working more than enough for the past weeks: they would be able to handle his absence for less than a whole afternoon. (Because Baekhyun intended on going to work the following day.)

His cheeks were burning, had been ever since his first break in the morning. He had started having trouble focusing on the words of his documents, more so than usual; and the nasty shivers had soon followed, a telltale sign that something was actually wrong with him for once, and it wasn’t just him being tired or a slow day.

The most annoying, in his opinion, was that sleep wanted to claim him so bad during the meeting, and what kept him awake wasn’t even the people talking: it was the sweat, accumulating on his back and under his arms, making his clothes and his hair stick to his skin. He couldn’t stand how it made him feel like he was choking, couldn’t stand the sensation of fabric catching against his limbs and constricting them in any kind of way. He never noticed fabrics as much as when he was sick and tired, it seemed, and it just added to his shitty mood.

He just wanted a shower, a cup of coffee, and sleep. Going home was the first step for that; so he called a cab, if only to spend less time using public transportation for once, and reached his place just in time to crash on his couch when a dizzy spell took him. 

It sucked. It really did. It was as though his body tried to perpetuate his bitter mood. 

 

He fell asleep, and when he came back to, it was to the sound of someone knocking on his door. Not unusual, because Chanyeol came by quite often, and as he soon noticed, he had a couple missed calls and texts from him waiting to be heard and read on his—dying—cellphone. 

He stretched with a wince. His shoulders were sore, and his neck, stiff as a metal rod. When he licked his lips, he noticed just how terrible of a taste there was in his mouth, and grimaced. He needed water.

But the knocking became louder, more insistent. Baekhyun groaned, and made his way to the door to unlock it, pull it open with an annoyed, “Yes, yes, I’m coming, Christ.”

And then, he froze. “K-Kyungsoo?” Seeing his co-worker standing there, it made his heart rate go up a notch at once. The man was sporting a rather confusing expression, some weird mix between anger and—something else. Embarrassment, maybe? Honestly, Baekhyun couldn’t be sure. “What are you … doing here?”

“I—Chanyeol.” A pause. Baekhyun raised his eyebrows, because that definitely needed more explanation. Kyungsoo averted his eyes. “He asked me to come to check up on you. He couldn’t, uh, come himself because of, well, stuff with Jongin. He’s sick too, or something. So I’m—so he asked. That I come here.” It came out stiffly, and while Baekhyun was still in a daze from his nap, he wasn’t completely blind to the tense lines of Kyungsoo’s shoulders. It was a lot of words to come out of his mouth all of a sudden, too. 

It was a lot of words from Kyungsoo, to Baekhyun.

So maybe it wasn’t exactly anger on his face, Baekhyun thought. Couldn’t figure it out, but could at least tell it wasn’t _that_ , probably. 

“I—see. But I’m fine.” He was, at least as much as a sick man could be, and he believed so. Kyungsoo’s lips twisted, and so did his brows. “Chanyeol insisted I come because you wouldn’t answer your phone.”

Ah. Chanyeol—of course. His friend really had a knack for over-worrying. 

Baekhyun had even expected to open the door on the giant, not his most recent curiosity, if one could call Kyungsoo that. He felt the embarrassment before it reached his ears and his already flushed face, understood that it might have seemed like he really needed someone to watch over him, to check up on him. But, really, it was just Chanyeol overreacting, as usual. He had probably been worried that Baekhyun had passed out and knocked his head on a sharp corner because of a sudden bout of dizziness, and that it was why he wasn’t answering his phone.

It amazed him, still, that Chanyeol had managed to convince Kyungsoo, of all people, to go to Baekhyun’s place. How did that even happen?

“But as you can see—I’m fine.” A dubious stare. “I swear I am. I’m—sorry he’s made you come all the way over here. You can go back home.” Pushing these words out was, for some reason … quite difficult. Like dry biscuits on his tongue, sand sticking to his teeth, salt burning his lips each time they moved. 

Why did he have to be sorry to Kyungsoo when it wasn’t even his fault he came here in the first place? Shouldn’t have listened to Chanyeol.

But Kyungsoo harrumphed, and pushed a bag into Baekhyun’s arms that he had no choice but to take. “Uh, what’s that?” Whatever was hidden away under the crinkling plastic was warm under his fingers.

“It’s stew. I—I had too much of it at home, okay? And because Chanyeol asked me to, well, to come, I thought—” He snapped his mouth shut, then, frowned at a spot beside Baekhyun’s shoulder. With a sigh, he added, “Just take it. Also, you look like a lobster, so maybe think of taking something for the fever.”

“Oh. Uh, okay. Thanks.” 

“It’s fine,” Kyungsoo said, and turned. Somehow, the fact that he didn’t wave or said “bye” as he left did not bother Baekhyun, because he was too dumbfounded about the stew to take in anything else. 

The stew turned out to be a simple one, nothing that seemed too fancy, but it was exactly what Baekhyun didn’t know he was craving for. It slid down his throat easily, made him feel slightly warmer, and his messed up taste buds were okay with it. 

Then he looked for some pills, found some expired ones, took them because that was still better than nothing. And, with that, he fell asleep on the couch seconds after starting a show on Netflix.

\---

The next morning, there was one person Kyungsoo was confident he wouldn’t see at work: Baekhyun, obviously. 

And yet, here he was, while Chanyeol wasn’t. “Is life trying to tell me something?” Kyungsoo mumbled, all the while pouring himself a (horribly watery) coffee in the break room. At that moment, Baekhyun sauntered into the room. “Telling you what?”

Kyungsoo sighed. “Something.” 

“Something, as in what?” 

Kyungsoo shrugged, held back on the frustration just waiting to pour out of his mouth. “Something, I don’t know. I was not talking to you.”

Baekhyun leaned against the counter, barely a metre away from Kyungsoo, pursing his lips. With eye bags worth competing with Itachi (not even a nerdy reference, at that point) and the dry skin around his mouth, he looked pitiful. “You’re talking in a public space, so I can ask all I want.” 

“Yes, yes, whatever.” He didn’t even have the will to roll his eyes at Baekhyun. “Do you want coffee?”

Baekhyun nodded, so Kyungsoo picked a mug for him, and poured him coffee. “Before you complain, I’m not the one who made it, nor the one who bought the grains.” 

Baekhyun nodded, grabbed the mug, and gulped down half of it before he winced. “It tastes like shit. But I need that.”

Kyungsoo acquiesced. So did he. 

He told himself he acted normal with Baekhyun because he was obviously not feeling well, and not because he felt guilty for avoiding him so much in the past weeks. It was just better for his overall sanity.

 

Baekhyun worked the entire day, even nodded at Kyungsoo once in the corridor on his way to the lunch break room, but he didn’t show up on Wednesday. And not that it gnawed at Kyungsoo or anything, really, but he wondered just how _sick_ the other must be to miss a day in the very middle of the week. And that was not at all because Chanyeol had been going on for hours about how Baekhyun never was _truly_ sick, not at all because the situation was worrying to a certain extent—

He was just tired. Extra tired, because of new deals and stupid clients and stupid animes on Crunchyroll that he’d spent two nights in a row watching just because he couldn’t fucking _relax_. 

It had to explain it all. He wasn’t bugged by the fact that Baekhyun was missing a day at work; he was happy about it, rejoiced in the peace that brought him. 

… eh. Maybe not as much as he’d hoped for himself. 

“—And he told me to fuck off! Can you believe it? But I’m just trying—”

Kyungsoo blinked, trying to snap out of the worry hole he dug for himself. “Wait, who told you what?” 

Chanyeol groaned, hitting his forehead on the table. Kyungsoo flinched, noticing just how close he had been to smashing his shitty cafeteria spaghetti instead. “Why do you both suck so much at listening to me? What is it that I do wrong? Do I talk too much? Jongin says—”

Kyungsoo poked his hair, interrupting him. “Yes, you do. Also, I don’t suck, I just—uh. I’m just tired.” 

Chanyeol squinted at him, nose wrinkling, and disbelief all over his features. “You’re always tired, ’Soo. I can’t believe Baekhyun and you hate each other so much, you both get distracted all the time, you both cancel outings whenever you can just so you can stay home and play video games—”

Kyungsoo became jittery. Chanyeol didn’t need to talk about that now. “I don’t play video games, I am productive.” That earned him a scoff from Chanyeol. Kyungsoo felt his ears become warmer. Fuck Chanyeol.

“Right, right. Whatever you do, I don’t care. I need your help, now.” 

Kyungsoo arched an eyebrow. “With what?” 

“I need you to text Baekhyun!” And Chanyeol slammed his hands onto the table. As if that’d drive his point across better. “He’s ignoring me, the asshole!” 

Kyungsoo’s lower lip started to tremble. “Uh, nope. No way I’m doing this. And he can ignore you all he wants, I’m sure you’ve been spamming him. You’re not his mom. And he probably doesn’t need you to act as such.” 

But Chanyeol stared long and hard, his big, round eyes becoming increasingly glassy with each passing second. And even if Kyungsoo left quickly after that, Chanyeol’s glare continued to stick to his back, felt like an actual weight on his nape, and when Chanyeol texted him Baekhyun’s number, he actually _saved it_ , and oh God, oh _God_ —

Just once. Chanyeol only needed news from Baekhyun once more to make sure he was fine and really, truly didn’t want anything for the evening. That’s what he’d told Kyungsoo to do, no— _pleaded_ him to do. Kyungsoo could do that much. He sucked, but he didn’t suck that much, did he? 

He waited until the end of his shift before he dared to write to Baekhyun (with sticky fingers and clammy hands, of course).

**Chanyeol needs to know if you need anything before he goes home**

**whos textin**

Kyungsoo took in a deep breath. Baekhyun sure was answering a stranger’s number fast for someone who had been ignoring Chanyeol all day.

**Kyungsoo**

**duuuude ur kidding**

That made him frown. He wasn’t lying. Was it that hard to believe it was Kyungsoo texting Baekhyun? 

(Maybe … yes?) 

**No, I’m not, Chanyeol asked me to**

**tell him to leave me alone im fine**

He heaved a deep sigh. So the guy wanted to be annoying, it seemed. He pursed his lips, looking at the time at the left upper corner of his cellphone. 17:10. It wasn’t too late, but maybe he could start making his way home instead of standing in the lobby. 

**Then answer him to tell him you’re fine and you don’t need anything dumbass**

The “dumbass” part wasn’t planned, but he pressed “send” before re-reading himself. (And I oop-) 

**tell u what, if you call me to prove me ur ksoo then ill answer him**

Kyungsoo blanched. 

**I’m not calling you, why would I have to prove anything**

**bcause chanyeol would try anything to get me to answer, so maybe it’s chan texting me rn from another number?**

**Well I don’t care, be a pighead if you want**

No answer for a minute or two. Kyungsoo thought the conversation was over, but then his phone screen lit up with an incoming call. He almost threw the device, but his strong “need-to-save-money” instinct saved him at the last instant. 

He could ignore the call. He totally could. He didn’t have to answer. So he swiped to end it. 

A few seconds later, a new call was coming in again. 

With an annoyed huff, he picked up. “What, Baekhyun?”

“Woah, it’s really you!” The voice on the other end sounded somewhat more nasal than usual, and rough, but that could also have been his shitty phone speakers. 

Kyungsoo rolled his eyes even though his colleague wasn’t here to witness his exasperation. “Of course it is.” 

“So, tell you what,” Baekhyun began, before a sneeze interrupted him. Kyungsoo winced at how wet it sounded. “I wouldn’t say no to some, uh, soup and some … pills? For when you’re sick? You know what I mean.”

Kyungsoo, mouth agape and disbelief dripping down his entire form for no one to see, stuttered. “Wait, you actually need something?”

“I mean—yeah?” There was an awkward pause. Kyungsoo couldn’t fathom that Baekhyun was asking _him_ , of all people, to bring him some stuff. “Look, I just don’t want to see Chanyeol, he’s just—”

The word was out of his mouth before he really thought about it. “Overbearing?” 

“Yeah,” Baekhyun said. “I like him, I really do, obviously, but … he’s been too much and he really fucking needs to stop stressing over everything. I mean, I totally get it if you don’t want to do that, like, it’s weird and kinda awkward and I don’t know why you would, actually—”

Kyungsoo’s blood was pounding in his ears, and his mouth was dry. Baekhyun’s rant was surprisingly honest, and while he thought it was extremely immature of him to have ignored Chanyeol like that only to ask him for something, well … well. 

He found himself going along with it.

“Okay, whatever. I’ll—I’ll bring you some stuff. But you’d better pay me back.” 

He somewhat still felt indebted to Baekhyun for his drunk antics, anyways.

“Of course!” Baekhyun sounded relieved. And, uh, embarrassed? A rare thing if that was truly the case, but maybe Kyungsoo shouldn’t trust his ears. He was never that good at understanding people’s tone of voice, so he was probably hearing what he wanted to hear. Eh. “Thanks a whole lot, Kyungsoo—”

He ended the call. He didn’t care what Baekhyun would think of this; his heart was beating so fast. 

Time to go to the drugstore.

\--- 

Baekhyun didn’t really know why he had asked Kyungsoo for some help, after all. 

Maybe it was him still being bitter about being ignored; maybe it was him wanting to see just how _far_ he could push Kyungsoo after he brought him some stew on Monday. Maybe it was just—

Curiosity, which he couldn’t quell by being away from the source of it, even though he should stay away. Should stay away, because Kyungsoo had made it very clear that he didn’t want to associate with Baekhyun again. Should stay away, because it wasn’t healthy to feel bad over a non-existent relationship.

Should stay away, because…

The doorbell rang then. It pulled a sharp inhale from Baekhyun; he had been so far deep in his thoughts, unfocused eyes still swimming in fever tears, that he hadn’t realized Kyungsoo would arrive so soon. 

With a sigh, he pushed himself up from the couch, dragged his socked feet to the entrance. He tried to fluff his hair a bit, pull at his hoodie just so it wouldn’t look like he had been drooling on the couch, but he knew there wasn’t much to do. He desperately needed a shower. With some luck, Kyungsoo wouldn’t be able to smell him from the doorway. 

When he opened the door, Kyungsoo seemed to freeze before thrusting a plastic bag in his hands. It caused a feeling of déjà vu to wash over Baekhyun, before he blinked it away and focused on the man in front of him. 

Small shoulders, small, square hands, a defined jaw, and hard, bushy brows. A surprising mix that worked, nonetheless, and that Baekhyun found himself appreciating more than usual at that moment.

“Thanks a lot, seriously,” he began, trying to infuse his words with as much gratefulness as possible. He could have asked anyone else, but Kyungsoo still agreed. When he peered down into the bag, he saw two boxes of caplets, cough drops, and even some crackers to accompany some soup cans. That almost pulled his lips into a smile, but he held back.

No need to make Kyungsoo overthink anything.

Kyungsoo didn’t answer right away, seemingly letting him take in the content of the bag. Then, “I just… got what I thought would be best. If you wanted something else, I can go pick it up now.” 

Baekhyun shook his head. “No, it’s all good.” Half the time, he didn’t know what to pick for himself, so Kyungsoo had done more than enough. “I don’t have money on me right now, but I’ll pay you back at work. ’s fine? 

Kyungsoo hummed, brought a hand to the back of his head to flatten the short hair there. “Good evening, then,” he bowed the slightest bit, and Baekhyun watched as he made his way down the corridor, and out of sight.

He couldn’t explain what he felt then, but it was new. And weird, very, very weird. Something like the beginning of a fire in the deepest part of his chest, crackling gently; flickering in and out of existence, still a tad too fragile, still lacking heat, but burning nonetheless. 

Baekhyun swallowed heavily, and closed the door.

He was too sick for this. 

 

A couple days later, Baekhyun wasn’t too sick anymore, but he was too busy to want to think about it all any further. 

If he just let it all be, chances were that everything would go back to normal, meaning he wouldn’t be wondering about Kyungsoo so often; he would stop thinking about how Kyungsoo had ignored him, and, more importantly, he would stop replaying the scenes with Kyungsoo bringing him stew, soup and caplets to his very own apartment when he was supposed to concentrate on his work.

Time did a lot for these kinds of things, so he found that he couldn’t wait for it to pass, to dissipate into nothing. 

At least, Kyungsoo wasn’t as rude as he had been when he was outright ignoring Baekhyun. While that would probably hinder the process of Baekhyun learning not to think about him, it did better his mood overall. 

Chanyeol started giving him weird, confused glares when he would say hi to Kyungsoo on his way to his cubicle, or when he would lower the volume of his music so that the small man wouldn’t throttle him; but he was just trying to be nicer, really. There was nothing to get stuck on, in his opinion.

But Chanyeol was still staring, as if he was trying to decorticate every little interaction between Baekhyun and Kyungsoo. 

It was all fine, until next Monday, when Kyungsoo didn’t show up, and, apparently, Baekhyun was searching for him in too obvious of a fashion for Chanyeol not to comment on it. 

“He’s not working today, Baek.” 

Baekhyun threw Chanyeol a dirty glare, pulling his eyes away from his absent colleague’s cubicle. The little cactus on it looked lonely. “I wasn’t looking for him, I was just … wondering if it needed water.” He pointed dismissively at the cactus, regretting the excuse as soon as it came out of his mouth. 

Chanyeol snorted into his cup of coffee, leaning his weight into the side of Baekhyun’s cubicle until the redhead kicked him in the shin. “It’s a frigging cactus, Baekhyun. I’m sure it’ll survive a couple days without water.”

“A couple days?” 

Chanyeol nodded, but then a sheepish looked appeared on his face. “Yeah, I texted Kyungsoo, and seems like he got sick too … but he’s been put on bed rest by his doctor or something. Seems like he got it rough.” 

Baekhyun’s shoulders deflated. “Oh,” was all that came out, and he frowned at the cactus. “I wonder if it’s because of me,” he mumbled, before realizing Chanyeol was close enough to hear. 

“It’s not really anyone’s fault, though. If there’s a bug going around, people are just bound to get sick.” Chanyeol paused, and added, “And are you, frigging Byun Baekhyun, worrying for your work nemesis?” There was a disgusting amount of suspicion in his voice.

Baekhyun almost replied with a crude, direct “NO, YOU ASS,’ but he slapped his mouth shut before he could. “No … it’s just, uh, not nice for him.” 

Chanyeol acquiesced. “Yeah. Not nice indeed.” 

It felt like there was something pitying about his tone of voice, but Baekhyun did his best to ignore it.

\--- 

Kyungsoo’s luck being what it was, it was no surprise to him when he woke up shivering and sore on Friday morning. Coming down with the flu—or whatever that was exactly—every few months was just a thing for him, and maybe he’d kind of asked for it by interacting with someone as sick as Baekhyun. 

The petty voice inside his head told him he could rightly be mad at his co-worker for that, but he shut it up before it could get a real grip on his thoughts. He didn’t need even more negative stuff to focus on, did he? And getting mad at Baekhyun for that didn’t even make an ounce of sense. It just. Didn’t. He could at least admit that much; his head wasn’t so far up his ass anymore. Instead, he really needed to work on that defensive behaviour thing. He wouldn’t admit that to Chanyeol out loud, but—

Still, it was his last day before the weekend, so he did what any dedicated employee would do: drugged himself with enough meds that he would be functional for a full day. Hopefully. 

It half-worked. Half, because while he started feeling incredibly shitty again after lunch, he still managed his tasks and no one commented on his appearance; if he didn’t look great, he could at least assume he didn’t look too terrible either. It wouldn’t be the first time he worked while in a less than ideal state. Animes and documentaries kind of did that to someone as intense about his interests as him. (Or someone as irresponsible with his sleep schedule as him. Heh.)

And he didn’t want anyone fussing over him, not even mother hen Chanyeol. It was generally awkward, because he never quite knew how to answer: toeing the line between white lies and half-truths was not for him, because even if he was aware one couldn’t afford to exaggerate their symptoms in order to get everyone’s understanding (or pity, or annoyance), it was still not okay to force onto others an image of health when the illusion could be broken by his lack of productivity. It would just make him look bad.

And he didn’t feel that close to a majority of his colleagues, anyway. So if someone were to ask about how he was, it would just always make things even more awkward. 

He acted as normal as he possibly could, so he could avoid that unwanted attention. Waved back at Baekhyun when the latter noticed him, and chatted casually with Chanyeol during lunch. Somehow still managed to wrap up his most important files before the weekend, even if at the price of developing a migraine on top of everything else. His right ear throbbed, pain radiating all the way to his eyes and nose and—ugh.

When it was finally time to go back home, he was a dead man standing, but at least, he’d gone through the full day of work. All that mattered now was that he could unwind and pass out on the couch with Mimi, without having to worry about shitty PowerPoints and soggy cafeteria spaghetti. 

(And embarrassing co-workers with unnaturally red hair.)

\---

Baekhyun turned off his car, and stared at his hands, shaking even as they gripped the steering wheel. What the hell was he even doing?

That was so not okay. If that failed, he’d have to move to another country. Or go back to the things were; go back to being petty and annoying and annoyed at the other.  
He couldn’t afford that, though, could he?

\--- 

A 40 °C fever and a trip to the doctor later, Kyungsoo found himself on antibiotics and strict bed rest until the end of the week. That horrified him, but he didn’t go to the doctor just to ignore what was clearly established during his exam. 

_(You’re dehydrated, and with that high a fever, you’re not going to be able to recuperate quickly if you work. Also, I don’t know if you were aware, but you’ve lost weight since the last visit, and while antibiotics will help you get the ear infection back under control, it could likely disturb your digestive system, so make sure to rest, eat properly, and drink plenty.)_

Because it was just his luck to get what was probably a virus, and end with an ear infection most definitely caused by a bacteria, all at once. Fun times, really. Didn’t piss him off at all. 

He knew his bosses would be annoyed with him, but he couldn’t do much more about it, could he?

At least, it gave him a reason to ignore every message on his cellphone. Even if, admittedly, there were not that many to begin with.

That’s also why when someone knocked on his door, he just froze on the spot, mouth parted and a spoonful of fruit sorbet hanging in the air. He didn’t move fast enough, because the visitor knocked again, and his spoonful of sorbet somehow spilled on his white shirt. He swore, hurriedly putting everything back on the kitchen counter so he could at least wipe the stain on his shirt before answering the door.

He looked bad, and he knew it, but he still didn’t expect to feel as mortified as he did when he opened the door on Baekhyun. Of all people, why did it have to be him? Kyungsoo most definitely looked dumb, clad in just his stained t-shirt, grey loose boxers and stupidly long, fluffy, baby blue socks. And he hadn’t showered since his appointment, because he didn’t expect to be visited by _anyone_.

Fuck life. Fuck everyone. Fuck Kyungsoo, for being such a mess in the first place.

He most certainly didn’t want an answer to the fact that he actually _minded_ how Baekhyun saw him, at that moment. 

“I, uh, Chanyeol told me you were sick.” 

Kyungsoo blinked, stared at a thread hanging loosely from one of the stitches on Baekhyun’s coat. He wanted to pull it out, cut it, something, just so it wouldn’t hang loose like _that_. 

“So I thought. Maybe I should. You know. Come by?” 

Kyungsoo blinked twice this time, opened his mouth, closed it. He was confused. 

“I-I mean, like, come by as in, make sure you’re fine and t-to bring you uh, some food! Just, y’know, b-because youdidthesameformeanditsmyfault— ”

That was spoken so fast, Kyungsoo just felt even dizzier suddenly. He raised his hands in what he hoped was a placating gesture. Baekhyun shut his mouth.

It was as though their roles were reversed. Baekhyun was obviously extremely nervous, and for once, Kyungsoo felt as though he could actually read his body language, struggling not to drown in the anxious energy that emanated from his co-worker.

It was not how things were supposed to be. Baekhyun was confident, petty, and only recently began to show something akin to respect toward Kyungsoo. Kyungsoo was supposed to be the anxious, grumpy, socially awkward human. 

This was—this was not okay.

He hesitated a bit, and then some before he spoke. “I—” A sigh. He needed more oxygen. More. “I don’t get you.” Putting into words the hundreds and thousands of thoughts running and circling through his mind was impossible, and that was all that came out.

Baekhyun visibly deflated, then just shrugged. He seemed … down. Maybe insulted at Kyungsoo’s words. When he replied, his words came out flat. The nervous inflections were gone, replaced by something Kyungsoo couldn’t quite name. “Sorry, I guess. I don’t know what’s gotten into me, I just, I thought maybe I should come by and, y’know, do the same you did for me because that’s, like, only fair—”

But he was still rambling.

“Baekhyun.”

Somehow, he shut up again. Kyungsoo was glad to be able to make him shut up if only for today.

“You didn’t … have to.” More silence, and this time, it turned even more awkward. Kyungsoo mentally kicked himself until he gathered the courage to continue. “B-but I appreciate it. What did you bring?” 

Baekhyun looked up at him. Something quite like surprise and, dare he say, hope, burst in his eyes. Kyungsoo offered him a small, tired smile, and Baekhyun looked as though he’s just remembered the crinkling plastic bag in his hands. His cheeks were flushed. Movements stiff, he handed the bag to Kyungsoo, who peeked inside. Didn’t need to stare at Baekhyun, didn’t need to make him realize he had noticed whatever this—reaction of his?—was. 

There was something that must have been soup or stew in a hot Styrofoam container. Smelled good, like something he could actually stomach, especially compared to the stupid fruit sorbet he’d bought on a whim. (Because, no, he didn’t even like fruit sorbet. But he had wanted to make sure it was still the case.) And some meds that Kyungsoo would gladly accept even though he had plenty already. A bag of chips, which he found funny, but didn’t comment on. He’d take the extra sodium.

That was plenty, that was more than enough, and for the first time in a few days, the warmth that radiated through his limbs was not fever, but rather a balm for his heart and his sore limbs. He felt marginally better, even with his swollen throat and all of his self-doubts.

It was weird, all of this, but nonetheless, Kyungsoo revelled in it. “Thank you.”

 

Things weren’t good, at the start. 

Kyungsoo kind of hated Baekhyun, and Baekhyun kind of hated Kyungsoo. They were opposites, one used to charm colleagues and friends while the other still struggled to make sense of some unspoken social rules. 

Things had been awkward, too, at the start. Getting to know each other through drunken antics, a pressing need to relieve oneself and an alcohol indigestion would never be the best formula for a positive relationship of any kind.

And yet, it had done the trick. For them, at least. 

His cellphone vibrated from its spot on the table, and Kyungsoo threw a last glance in the mirror, making sure his hair was properly tamed, and his shirt, properly tucked into his pants. He grabbed his cellphone, typing in a quick reply. 

**Yeah yeah I’m coming down**

**U have 3 seconds bfore i cancel our date**

Kyungsoo rolled his eyes. As if that would ever happen. 

When he exited his apartment, he noticed the car waiting for him down the set of stairs. Biting back a grin, he made his way to the passenger door, and once he was sitting in the leather seat, seatbelt on, a hand found his and squeezed. 

“So, where are you bringing me today?” 

Baekhyun scoffed, kissing the back of Kyungsoo’s hand before releasing it. He looked really good, properly suited up like that, his hair dyed a deep shade of brown. “I fear it’s going to be a surprise until we get there, babe.” 

He felt himself become flustered at the pet name. Still wasn’t used to it, but he enjoyed it. Baekhyun definitely didn’t need to know that.

“It better be good. You know I don’t like surprises.” 

Baekhyun hummed noncommittally, starting the car. “Don’t worry, ’soo. It’s going to be great.” 

Kyungsoo turned to look through the window, bringing a hand to his mouth to conceal his giddy smile. “I know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooooooo it is dONE! WHY COULDN'T THEY KISS ON THEMOUTH AT LEAST ONE IDK_---- (jk jk I know it's because I'm a slut for slow burn and idkkkkk)
> 
> The funny thing is, it was kinda supposed to be more uuh sexual and all that. And I started it soooo long ago--it didn't head this way at all, did it?
> 
> I really, really wanted to finish it, so even though I'm not quite satisfied with it and I know, I know, it's like the worst slow burn ever and the end's rushed and the characters are dumb, I'm just happy I'm done with it. I hope that, somehow, you guys enjoyed it. It means a lot to me, to be able to share this here.
> 
> Uni kicked my ass, so getting back into writing was really hard, but! Here it is! I DID IT
> 
> It's crazy how Baeksoo still makes my brain go like OOOOH. A good thing, too. I don't know what my next projects will be, probably some more Baeksoo and some Undertale (and I oop-), but I'll see where things lead me. I'm a slow writer, so yeaaah patience
> 
> Thank you, everyone. Kudos and comments make my day, and don't hesitate to point out dumb mistakes! I did tried to beta it but uh, I could've missed some mistakes and all!

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos are appreciated <3 For real. I have three writing projects atm, including this one, and feedback helps a whole lot. Thank you!


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